


Bottled Love

by CobaltBoba



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Royalty, Happens at a ball, Junhui is full of love, Knight!Jeon Wonwoo, Love Potion/Spell, M/M, Prince!Wen Junhui, Soonyoung is supportive, Wonwoo does nothing but his best, light violence and blood
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-11
Updated: 2019-10-11
Packaged: 2020-11-25 21:40:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,794
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20919041
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CobaltBoba/pseuds/CobaltBoba
Summary: It's time for the annual ball again, and though Junhui only has a single in person in mind to dance with, he knows it will never happen. After all, Wonwoo, his loyal knight, never seems to want to be around him unless there's trouble Wonwoo is expected to help solve. So he's fated to spend this beautiful, fun-filled night alone?Nobody would want the precious prince to have to experience that.(Or: the one where Jun's love is obvious.)





	Bottled Love

**Author's Note:**

> Dear Ficfest Mods, 
> 
> Thank you for being so kind in letting me have an extension for this fic, and of course for hosing this Best Party Ever! This wouldn't exist if not for you!
> 
> Beta'd by my dear [bigcaratfool](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bigcaratfool/pseuds/bigcaratfool)!
> 
> Now let the party begin >wo

_ Honored members of the Wen Court, _

_ You are cordially invited to Chancellor Wang’s Annual Spring Papillon Ball. You need not bring anything but your selves, ready to enjoy the night of festivities. We shall celebrate for the sake of celebration, for what greater joy is there than that of new life? _

_ Happily yours, _

_ The Court of Wang. _

  


//

“Sigh.”

No response.

“Sigh…”

Still nothing…

“SIGH,”

“Yes, my Prince?”

“Soonyoung!” Junhui snapped out of his dispirited state and huffed as he pelted his bed’s third decorative pillow from the right at his best friend, who was too busy laughing at Junhui’s reaction to dodge the blow.

“I know, I know,” Soonyoung wheezed, arms wrapping around the fallen projectile, “but you didn’t seem like you were going to listen to anything I said unless I practically insulted you.”

Junhui’s pout as he took aim with another pillow was appeased as Soonyoung wiggled his way across the bed to tackle Junhui into a hug. The latter’s jolt from the sudden pressure and subsequent squeak was muffled by Soonyoung’s chest and declaration, “Not to worry, dearest Junnie, I’ve not forgotten my promise to you, our oath sealed into truth by the moonlight’s glow.” 

Junhui relaxed at the sound of his nickname and allowed himself to be smothered in the material of Soonyoung’s shirt as he continued, “Now anyway. What was it that you were sighing over? It sounded like you just overheard that you’d been married off to some unknown royal, as if your father would allow that. Or your brother.”

The more words that came out of Soonyoung’s mouth, the further Junhui sank into his bedsheets. These words were all true, and despite Jeonghan’s position as crown prince, situations were secure enough that he knew he wouldn’t have to worry too much about marrying for anything except for love. 

But with the advent of this Ball, surely to be attended by royalty from across the continent and beyond, there would of course be the subtle, silent expectation looming over him. If not from his family, then from the advisors who could be regarded just as closely. The expectation for the little prince who yearned for love to find him in a position of power, for his happiness to double as a happiness for those he and Jeonghan both knew cared little for the princes’ joy.

For somebody whose eyes were already focused entirely on a single point, of course Junhui could only breathe in heavy, wistful sighs knowing that he would have to dance and socialize with empty promises the entire night with only the world-class food to appease him, especially if his dearly treasured companion Soonyoung couldn’t accompany him. 

There was also the guarantee that the other parties would eye him solely because of his status as royalty. Even if his family was kind, who was to guarantee that “suitors” would be?!

What was Junhui supposed to do?!

Not only did the pats that Soonyoung offered the little Prince do little to ease his worries, but he found that he couldn’t accept his advice either!

“Junnie, the two of us both see the easy way out here. Just ask h—”

“I can’t! He’d never say yes…” Junhui whined, and as he felt Soonyoung inhale to argue he continued, “I could probably guess exactly what he would say.”

Junhui cleared his throat and then dropped his voice to the lowest tone he could muster, “‘No, my Prince,’ and then he bows, ‘my apologies, but my duty prohibits me from consorting with you in this manner,’” the prince sighs as he drops the act and continues with a wave of his hand, “and then he walks away to I dunno, sharpen his sword?” 

Soonyoung snickers, no doubt amused by the imitation of Junhui's Favorite Knight, trying to hide such a childish noise by burying them in the soft strands of Junhui's hair, "You're right. That sounds exactly like him!"

Junhui continued to huff, “at the very least, he’ll be at the Ball, but… that just makes the whole thing worse!” 

This time instead of trailing off, he continued his rant, “I’ll be dancing with other people when he’s right there and within reach! And since apparently I can’t take my eyes off of him,” Junhui watched as Soonyoung nodded affirmatively at his reflection, “I’ll make my other dance partners feel bad too. It’s a loss for everyone involved.” 

The duo lay cuddling on Junhui’s bed for a little while more as the prince continued to sulk, but just as Soonyoung was about to launch into another round of encouragement, a loud banging sounded at Junhui’s door.

“Soonyoung!” At the sound of Minghao’s voice the prince and the knight both jumped, and the latter was for a moment stuck between hiding under the covers and rushing to the door. “You're going to be late right as they consider letting you lead drills? Fine by m—”

“WAIT!” Soonyoung leapt out of bed as Minghao’s voice began to fade, so sure that Soonyoung would respond that no follow up was required. 

“In any case, I'm sure the night will be great. We’ll talk more when I finish!” Junhui could hardly catch the tail end of what Soonyoung said with how quickly the door slammed closed, but he found himself laughing lightly at his friend’s antics nonetheless. At the very least, he knew he would always have someone in his corner. 

~

The weeks passed as they do until the night of the Ball arrived, but to Junhui they felt like they dragged on for an eternity.

During this time he almost never saw Wonwoo in any sort of meaningful way. The knight would accompany him whenever he left the castle for outings, but he was to focused on keeping an eye out for threats to respond to Junhui’s playful probing. 

He would have a presence in the room during meals, but despite his invitations, Wonwoo would eat in his own barracks. If he had anything to say about the matter surrounding his dining table, Jeonghan didn't show it. Instead he kept his attention on Joshua and Seungcheol on either side of him, including his little brother in the conversation whenever Junhui’s eyes weren't trained on the knight stationed behind him. 

He was there for Junhui. Without a doubt, if Junhui was ever in need of Wonwoo’s assistance or service, the older would appear within a heartbeat. But he didn't stay. He would make himself scarce once his duty was fulfilled, leaving a Junhui who only longed to strike up conversation hanging with no choice but to direct his attention elsewhere. He was there for Junhui, but he was never _ there _for Junhui . 

If that was what Junhui wanted most, then didn't that fall into his duties as well? Company? But what’s the point if it’s not genuine...

In any case, Junhui had no reason to believe that, on the evening of the ball, that Wonwoo would suddenly experience a change of character and turn around to spend the entire night not just by Junhui’s side, but with him. 

Even entering such a beautiful ballroom after a lonely carriage ride didn’t help. The high marble archways at every entrance around a hall so large one could fit two sailing ships side by side. A grand, glistening chandelier hanging in the center of the room had, radiating from it in all directions, arrays of smaller chandeliers to bask the entire hall in a bright light. An entire side of the room was filled by tables covered end to end in every variety of food imaginable. It was nothing short of a feast, and Junhui’s eyes never would have left it if not for the sheer number of people in this room mingling, eating dancing to the live music being played from the stage. The colors of this party were brilliant, and the movement of all these attendees was mesmerizing. 

Among all these royals and guests who claim such high importance, Junhui was not a single step out of place. His snow white dress shirt was crafted with the finest silk in his land and designed with intricate threads of gold to create weaving patterns along the bottom. Crossing his chest between two thin, delicate golden chains that hung hidden under his collar on both sides were even dantier golden chains that would shift with his every movement, a sparkle of life to go along with the normally lively prince. Paired with comfortable, form fitting black dress pants, the small crescent moon charm hung around his neck on a chain, and his silvery hair parted down the side and swept upwards, the effort it would take Junhui to keep all eyes on him would be minimal. 

Despite his appearance, Junhui took care to ensure that the eyes trained on him would be minimal. He shuffled to the food tables with his hands folded in front of him and his shoulders hunched in order to seem as small as physically possible without acting so out of place he would draw even more attention to himself. That would defeat the whole purpose of trying to hide in the first place, wouldn’t it?

At the very least by the time he got to the food, he had been left unassailed. No strangers asking for his hand in a dance, and even better, no powerful royals he was familiar with asking for his hand in a dance. It was just him and his true love, fancy finger food! From his position he could catch glimpses of Minghao accompanying Mingyu, the prince from a country they had amicable relations with. During a previous party Junhui had gotten to know the younger prince and form a close relationship over mutual fawning over members of the infantry. 

But as good as their relationship was, right now Mingyu was enjoying the night with Minghao, and Junhui didn’t want to bother the two with his troubles. Perhaps he could find Yanan and safely spend the night with him instead?

The bustling life of the ball, all the movement and chatter and music served to keep Junhui well distracted from what constantly tried to push to the forefront of his mind. Every time he glanced over at Wonwoo and his perfectly pressed uniform and his elegant red sash crossing his torso and his golden epaulettes and buttons and sequins on his sleeves, his perfect posture as he stood with his sword by his hip, Junhui couldn’t help but sigh. He was in formal wear instead of armor, and he was just as dashing as usual. 

It wasn’t hard to catch his eye, since from his station by the edge of the room he kept his attention on and around Junhui in order to make sure the prince was safe from any potential threats. But each time he did, Wonwoo simply nodded at Junhui, simple reassurance that he was present and performing his duty. What could Junhui do but nod back and turn back to the fruit tarts on the table?

Junhui sighed to himself once more. If he didn’t enjoy the night, it would certainly be too much of a waste. Chancellor Wang’s balls were the talk of nations, and it wasn’t every year you were able to attend one. After a few more wonderful tartlets Junhui psyched himself up to socialize, only to look up and see a man offering him a glass of champagne with a serene smile on his face. 

“Prince Junhui, I assume?” The man gave a bow to Junhui, outstretched hand still offering him the drink. Giving him a quick once over, Junhui was instantly stricken with the warmth exuding from this man. His sharp features were intimidatingly well-sculpted, and his tall build was simultaneously lean and broad, but he was relaxed in a way that made Junhui feel as if he could relax as well. 

He still couldn’t stop himself from glancing back at Wonwoo for a moment, if only to gauge his reaction to his ward finally interacting with somebody, though to his surprise, somebody else who seemed to be a guard of some sort was currently holding Wonwoo’s attention in conversation. If Wonwoo could relax so far as to momentarily take his attention away from Junhui, the prince felt calmed, and he felt himself smile a bit. Wonwoo was beginning to enjoy himself! 

As he accepted the drink Junhui returned the bow for, if someone were at this party, they were at least worthy of some note. “I am. Forgive me for not recognizing you.” 

The man laughed lightly, waving Junhui’s apology aside with his hand. “No need to apologize, dear Prince. I’m from a more faraway land. I am the Baron of Pennyroyal, Yeongjin. And please, just ‘Yeongjin’ is fine.” A sip of his own drink had him pause before he continued, “I’ve heard much about you, Prince Junhui, and really, there were all kinds of stories that reached my ears.”

Yeongjin’s eyes lifted into another smile and Junhui seemed taken aback by his fame, his face flushing a light shade of pink as he quickly took a sip of champagne to hide his trembling lips. What kinds of things were said about him? Was the news of an unbetrothed prince so widespread that even this Baron had heard of him and recognized him? Yet it wouldn’t be quite proper to ask what sorts of rumors existed.

“Is that so?” A deep breath, and Junhui returned to his royal persona. “I’m truly flattered that you’ve heard so much of me.” If the idea of him held by his own people could already be a bit inaccurate, stories that stretched over continents couldn’t be wonderfully true to life. At the very least, Yeongjin had found him interesting enough to approach.

“Well, regardless of what I heard, my motive for approaching you was quite simple.” Yeongjin raised his glass toward Junhui in a small toast, and Junhui felt his dread rise. He raised his glass in return on reflex, nodding as he prepared to hear the ensured marriage proposal. 

“I wanted to get to know you for myself.” 

At these words Junhui’s doe eyes widened, and he failed to follow through with the drink following the toast. He hadn’t been expecting this, a genuine want for a connection to be formed. It seemed too simple of a courtesy to allow such an important prince this but, the more Junhui stared intently at Yeongjin, the fewer signs of deceit he could find.

The Baron himself seemed to understand Junhui’s shock, as he held out his glass once more to clink against Junhui’s own to prompt another shared sip. “Not to worry, Prince Junhui, I genuinely do want to spend this night with you. And perhaps, after the fact, we may stay in touch.”

Junhui nodded in response, a sweet smile adorning his face as he said, “It would be my pleasure.”

Standing by the food and finishing off their champagne, the two continued to chat about the basics before diving into more stories. How Yeongjin was allowed freedom for being a middle child in his list of siblings, how Junhui prefered to watch the knights train rather than study, how Yeongjin had an affinity for spicy food that came nowhere near to Junhui’s own, how Junhui had a developed skill in archery and Yeongjin in swordplay, and how this Chancellor’s parties were unmatched in liveliness. 

Eventually, after a few hours of talking and laughing and eating, Yeongjin’s outstretched hand was offered to Junhui. The Prince looked up at the baron in a bit of confusion, and the latter flicking his eyes over at the pairs twirling around the floor in the center of the ballroom away from the food. 

Junhui felt his face flush for a moment, following Yeongjin’s gaze out to the floor before he threw it back at the other man. An airy nervous laugh left him; the conversation had been nice and dandy and he was starting to feel more and more comfortable around him, but still, dancing with him? It was a little intimate for him, and Junhui found himself reluctant. 

Yeongjin’s smile was knowing, as if he expected as much of an response from Junhui. He retraced his hand to instead place his hand on Junhui’s shoulder. “I understand, good Prince. There’s no need to feel sorry.”

  


But now that he thought about it, Junhui… did feel sorry. It was as if his heart had swelled up at the touch, and the more he considered it, the more he wanted to dance with Yeongjin. He was so kind, so warm; a single dance couldn’t hurt. In fact, it could even open the door to more opportunity. 

Could he really pass this chance up?

Yeongjin was reaching toward another glass of champagne when Junhui grabbed his hands in both of his own. The deep breath he inhaled came with an unmatched flood of courage and energy as his eyes fixated on the man in front of him. 

“I would love to dance with you!” Yes, those words felt good to say. They sounded like the right thing to say. Junhui was sure that this was how this interaction was supposed to continue. 

“Ah?” Yeongjin’s thin smile toward him delighted Junhui to see, and his heart jumped for joy when Yeongjin’s fingers tightened around Junhui’s. “I’d be honored to share this night with you, dear prince.”

And as if moved by an autumn breeze brushing leaves to the ground, Junhui was swept onto the dance floor in Yeongjin’s arms. The entire time they twirled Junhui couldn’t take his eyes off of the taller, not when it was all his brain was telling him to do, not when every point of contact with the man pulsed a deep warmth into his body, not when every moment his heart was soaring. The baron hadn’t even been speaking, yet Junhui felt like he would hold on to every word spoken. 

Was it really just a second ago that he was against dancing with him? What had gotten through his mind to refuse such an offer? This experience right now was perfection. 

The world around them became a blur, but all Junhui payed attention to was Yeongjin. And he wanted things to stay this way, a myriad of joyous and ecstatic feelings flowing through his bones; if his whole life was like this, if he could spend his whole life with Yeongjin—

His whole life, with Yeongjin. Junhui’s bliss momentarily paused, the seeming swirls of light surrounding the pair disappearing. His whole life.

Not with Yeongjin. That was wrong. His entire life he had thought along the lines, and it was never Yeongjin in that space. His whole life, but not with Yeongjin. 

The more these thoughts piled up in his mind, the more his head started to hurt. The ache at the front of his head spread to his temples and clouded his thinking, and before he knew it he was clutching his head and stepping away from Yeongjin. 

His entire life he had only wanted this kind of future with Wonwoo. The more Wonwoo took care of him and was always by his side, the more he wanted to remain like this for as long as they cold. Even if Wonwoo didn't return his feelings, he would at least be by his side, and that was enough for Junhui. And that was why everything was so wrong. 

Through his pained haze Junhui was aware of Yeongjin reaching out toward him, and working on nothing but instinct he stepped further away from him. Of course he wanted to be held. Someone as tactile as him surely would love to be held. 

But right now as the world was spinning faster and faster around him he only wanted one person. 

Wonwoo, 

Wonwoo,

Where was he? Junhui's feet moved on their own to where he last saw

Wonwoo,

to where 

Wonwoo

had been standing the entire night, to where every time Junhui glanced back to find him 

Wonwoo

surely would be there. 

Every mention of his name rang out in Junhui’s mind, echoing and bringing a brief respite to the numbing pain that was spreading down his neck and clouding his vision with each resounding repetition. 

Wonwoo

would take care of him. He always had. 

Wonwoo

would make it stop hurting. Just like when they were little and a six year old 

Wonwoo

bandaged up a four year old Junhui’s scraped knee. Or when a ten year old 

Wonwoo

pulled the splinter out of an eight year old Junhui’s finger and gingerly kissed the sore digit to make it feel better and draw laughter out of the prince. 

Wonwoo 

always helped. 

As waves of memories crashed over Junhui’s brain to erase the painful etches in the sand, he suddenly found himself enveloped. Familiar hands placed on his shoulders prompted him only to push into the warmth, lean and bury himself in 

Wonwoo’s

chest. 

“My Prince,” the voice that Junhui loved to hear above all else cut through the haze, and Junhui instantly removed his hands from his head to stare up, wide-eyed at his precious knight, his sworn protector, his—

“My Prince,” he repeated after a beat, his guarded countenance suddenly broken into true concern, “how did this happen?”

What? Junhui just wanted to leave, to be somewhere only 

Wonwoo

was, to be away from the noise and the spinning lights. 

“Of course, my Prince.”

Junhui felt himself led out of the grand ballroom and into a nearby study, the door to which was quietly shut by 

Wonwoo

to muffle the music from the Ball. 

Had he said that out loud? Junhui hadn’t even realized it. He had been sat down in a padded chair, and his knight had knelt in front of him with concern and something else Junhui could not place. 

“How did this happen?” Wonwoo repeated softly, not reacting as Junhui reached out for his hand. Now that it was just the two of them, the pain had greatly subsided, yet it hurt the least as long as he was making contact with the other. 

“I, what do you mean?” Junhui shook his head, “I don't know, Wonwon, everything just started hurting and blurring together.” The nickname of old slipped out by mistake of the prince, yet Wonwoo made no reaction. 

“My Prince,” Wonwoo took the hand that had reached toward him, but he simply held it. His other hand lifted toward Junhui’s chin to slowly turn his gaze toward the mirror seated on the wall, where Junhui realized that something certainly was wrong. 

His eyes, normally a deep, warm brown, had turned a dark purple, the color swimming and shifting as he stared. Yet on top of that, his normally quite average pupils had morphed into the shape of hearts. It gave his eyes an unnatural, distant look, and combined with the haze he felt, he was slowly beginning to understand why Wonwoo was suddenly so concerned the moment they made eye contact. 

“I don't know,” Junhui turned back to gaze into Wonwoo’s eyes, his hand taking hold of the one Wonwoo had used to turn his attention, “I really don't. Everybody else was eating all the food, I don't think it was something I ate.”

Wonwoo nodded as he processed the words, his warm hands unmoving in Junhui’s own. “Thank you for coming to me.” There was no follow up, but Junhui's heart moved at the thought of making Wonwoo proud. 

‘Of course I had to,’ he thought, ‘ where would I go besides to Wonwon’s side?’ 

It was silent for a moment, until the slight twitch of Wonwoo’s eyebrow alerted Junhui that in his haze, he had accidentally spoken out loud again. He wanted to flush and hide behind his hands, but they were busy holding on to Wonwoo’s for that familiar pulse of warmth.

But for a second it felt like Wonwoo wanted to pull away, so Junhui only frowned and held on more tightly. 

“I must ask, my Prince,” his voice sounded slightly different to Junhui, but he couldn't identify why, “have I not asked you to stop calling me that?”

Right. Honor, duty, professionalism, rank, position, inferiority. Junhui’s frown deepened as his eyebrows furrowed. It had been a while since he had even spoken directly to Wonwoo or even had the chance to face him for more than a moment. “I've also asked you to use my name. Yet you never do.” ‘ So why should I have to do what you ask when it's the same thing?’

This time it seemed that his thoughts remained unspoken, but Wonwoo sighed. “You know I cannot. It's improper.”

Yet it hadn’t been improper while they were children or even teenagers. Really, this attitude of his was more recent. But it was persistent, and Wonwoo was firm. 

Junhui wanted to complain that he was the only person who thought this way, that Soonyoung and Chan and Minghao and everybody else simply addressed him using his name, that Wonwoo had to be doing this on purpose, but as he took in a breath to collect his words, the door to the study sounded with a knock. 

Without awaiting a response from either party inside, the door creaked open to reveal a smiling Yeongjin and someone who only looked vaguely familiar to Junhui. 

“Prince Jun?” Junhui wanted to comment that even this Baron used his name, even if it was still with the title, but Wonwoo’s attitude had changed. He seemed to bristle with the way he stood to face the newcomers, pulling his hands out of Junhui’s and leaving his whole being feeling cold. Junhui frowned again. The way Wonwoo stood with his back to him and one hand resting at his hip just above his sword; he couldn't see the older’s face, but he was sure he wasn't happy. 

“You,” Wonwoo began dangerously, “are the one who kept my ward company for the better half of the night. Would you happen to know how his condition ended up this way?” His words were perhaps not as polite as one would expect from someone who had just argued about what his duty permitted him to say. 

“I’m sorry to say that I don't quite know what you're talking about, good sir.” He leaned around the knight to extend his hand toward Junhui, and Junhui instantly wanted to reach out and take it. The warm feelings from earlier were rushing back, but with them came the migraine and blinding haze that made him curl in on himself and mumble Wonwoo’s name again to ease the pain. 

Neither Yeongjin nor Wonwoo expected this reaction from the Junhui who had previously been so amicable to the former, and both stared at him in what could barely called confusion to the trained eye.

Wonwoo was about to return to kneel in front of Junhui and ensure his well being, when suddenly he snapped to attention and whipped around. Perhaps Junhui had been too distracted by the ringing in his ears to hear the slight, muted slide of steel against steel, for what he saw as he blinked his vision upward came as a surprise. 

Wonwoo had drawn his sword as he turned and he now blocked the blade of the fourth man in the room, a man who had not made a single noise until now. Yeongjin had also drawn a sword he had not had with him in the ballroom, and he was resetting his stance after also having made a wide slash at Junhui’s knight. 

“...What?” Junhui’s confusion made itself known as the two strangers in the room moved once more toward Wonwoo. 

He only had Wonwoo’s dry laugh as an answer as the older dodged and parried the attacks made at him, quick on his feet even considering his build and formal clothing. 

“I really should have known, Amsal, that approaching me with relentless conversation was to this end.” The glimpses of Wonwoo’s face that Junhui could see however were nothing but an unamused glower and dead concentration. “By the time I was able to return my attention to my Prince, your compatriot had already approached him. Of course.” Wonwoo, teeth spat his final comment out with gritted teeth as he pushed Yeongjin’s sword away from him and stepped out of the way of Amsal’s downward strike.

“Stop this, what are you doing?” Junhui’s attempt to raise his voice fell short as it made the ringing in his ears worse, and all that ended up coming out was barely more than a whisper. 

“Yeah, are you sure now was the right time?” Yeongjin’s lithe movements had been hesitant to begin with, but now he moved as if his purpose to kill Wonwoo had been realized. His smiles from earlier had been wiped off of his face, and he now looked as if a fly had gotten into his soup. 

From Wonwoo’s other side Amsal tutted his tongue, a sight of disappointment leaving him as he stabbed once more and was blocked once more by Wonwoo. “They’ve already isolated themselves. There literally will not be a better time. Honestly,” he grunted as Wonwoo riposted and nicked his side, “the fact that you didn’t realize the source of the interference instantly is disappointing.”

Junhui had long since understood the danger in this situation and the betrayal he had experienced, but still, wasn’t this a little weird? Usually when people tried to kill somebody between him and Wonwoo, they would aim for the royal’s life. But right now they were focused entirely on Wonwoo, who thankfully was effortlessly holding his own. Why did they want him dead so badly?

It was just as he thought this that Yeongjin tried to maneuver around Wonwoo and grab Junhui’s arm. The prince reacted even despite his haze and scooted his chair away from his assailant, even if such an action proved unnecessary thanks to Wonwoo’s fist coming into contact with Yeongjin’s jaw as he took the opportunity to strike. 

In the next moment as Yeongjin was reeling and Amsal had to chase after the knight, Wonwoo swept Junhui up out of his seat and pressed him against his side, one arm holding him there protectively and the other raising his sword against the Pennyroyal assailants. 

Before Junhui could ask, Wonwoo answered. “They’re after me for the moment, and if you’re defenseless, they can use you to get to me. No harm will befall you, my Prince. I will see that it is so.”

He said all this, but Junhui was already slipping back into that warmth that came from the contact with Wonwoo. He barely caught what was said to him, but he still nodded in the bliss that overtook him as he stared starry-eyed up at Wonwoo. The knight did not meet his eyes. 

With the way that Junhui’s brain sank farther into incoherency, back into a cycle of imagining the future with Wonwoo, his focus drifted away from the situation around him. He was vaguely aware that Wonwoo fought with precision, his years of training shining against these two assassins. Never once did a blade or a hand make it near Junhui, and, quite quickly, both Yeongjin and Amsal and been disarmed with the force and consistency of Wonwoo’s attacks. 

Yeongjin, who after the punch had been gingerly holding what seemed to be a broken jaw, received a firm kick to his abdomen that sent him flying into the wall with enough force to make the study’s paintings shake. He slumped down, unconscious and down for the count as Wonwoo turned back toward Amsal. Unfortunately, while they wanted the knight dead, Wonwoo did not have the luxury of being able to murdering another nation’s citizen in Chancellor Wang’s home. His sword had no traces of blood on it, but Amsal had sustained many blunt blows to his body over the course of his two-versus-one fight with Wonwoo. 

He now stood cornered against the wall, with Wonwoo’s sword pointed at his throat. “You managed to not spill your plan earlier despite expecting me dead. How convenient. I now expect every detail.” The tip of the blade pricked into Amsal’s throat, not enough to draw blood, but enough to remind him of the threat. Even if Wonwoo did not intend to get blood onto his hands, this man had no way of knowing that. 

Amsal swallowed, the uncomfortable point in his skin sapping him of the confidence he had held just a short while ago. Would it be worth his life to tell the truth? There was no telling that this knight would release him even if he did speak, but he had refrained from killing Yeongjin this whole time… 

“Two-factor Love Potion.” Amsal smirked a bit, but it quickly dropped from his face as Wonwoo applied just the slightest amount of pressure onto his throat. “He drinks it, and it’s activated all at once through physical contact. Whoever keeps his touch the longest becomes the object of his affections. 

“And once your Prince is head over heels obsessed with our Baron, what could your nation do against ours? Without invoking the precious little prince’s rage and usage of his power? You couldn’t touch us, and you wouldn’t see much of him either, but he would be happy.”

From where Junhui still stared up at Wonwoo’s face he could see his intensely focused face break into a grimace, and he failed to glimpse just how satisfied Amsal looked. He also was registering none of what he said, but when he saw Wonwoo’s face contort, Junhui frowned as well. As rare as it was, he liked it when Wonwoo smiled.

“If that information about the potion is true, then why did he seek me out?” Junhui felt Wonwoo’s arm tighten around him for a moment, and his loose smile returned at the feeling. But nothing else about Wonwoo had changed. Had he meant to do that? Someone as in control of their own body had to have done that on purpose, right?

“This potion is strong thanks to needing external stimulus but that still doesn’t mean it’s always strong enough.” He paused, almost to gauge the knight’s reaction, but the knight gave none. “A bit of ‘rejection’ happens if whoever has taken the potion already feels love so strong it simply can’t be overwritten.”

‘Well that’s obvious,’ Junhui thought, cheeks puffing out into a pout as he continued to stare upward paying intense attention to any change on Wonwoo’s details, ‘everyone knows about my affections. Even Wonwoo does, the heartless fiend.’ 

“This potion goes as far as to have its victim come to terms with an entire future with whoever’s holding him. You understand just how strong this existing love has to be to reject magic, don’t you?” The amusement on Amsal’s face was quickly cleaned off of it Wonwoo pressed his sword even deeper into his flesh. 

“That’s enough. Tell me how to undo it.” His voice commanded the authority of somebody that had earned his respect his entire life. Junhui had watched him rise to the top of his class and excelled even then— he was sure Wonwoo wasn’t fond of the other’s tone. His brow said that much. 

“Good sir I would tell you, if I knew.” Wonwoo grimaced just slightly, and he looked as if he was about to accuse Amsal of lying before he continued, “Rule of thumb is that when the potion get rejected, you kill whoever the poor little victim fell in love with. No love, no interference. It’s easy! I’m telling the truth, this potion has never had to been broken before.”

Wonwoo was, at this point, sure that the conversation was finished, and he brought the hilt of his sword down on Amsal’s head in a swift, conclusive motion. As the latter’s body crumpled to lean against the wall, Wonwoo gently removed Junhui from his side, even if he did keep a hand on the small of his back. Junhui still frowned, but before he could whine out loud Wonwoo explained, “I don’t want to stay here in case they wake up. Shall we go to the gardens, my Prince?” 

Oh. Well, eloping from a grand ball to spend the night in the gardens with Wonwoo sounded quite good to Junhui, so he nodded. Wonwoo responded by holding his elbow out, and Junhui looped his arm around Wonwoo’s own to let the knight lead him outside. 

Really, the amount of time and care put into this garden was exemplary. Huge rose bushes with petals of every color lined the sides of the garden, and as far as the eye could see there were perfectly pruned gardenias, tunnels of flowering vines, and lilies and peonies in full bloom surrounding the pair. 

Wonwoo found a bench and led Junhui to sit down on it. The moment he took his place next to his prince, the younger pressed against his side and looped his arms around Wonwoo’s neck to pull himself even closer in. 

Wonwoo made no movement in response except to turn his head to face Junhui's.

“I'm sure you're overjoyed at the moment, but I'm afraid we will have to break this spell on you.” One of his hands came to rest on Junhui's arm as he thought, “How clearly can you think? Does anything from your studies stand out?” Earlier Junhui had been mostly coherent, but once Yeongjin’s entrance caused his relapse and Wonwoo had held him in order to protect him, the prince seemed more delirious than before. It seemed that the hearts in his eyes had only grown. Did the potion become more potent over time?

Thankfully, a thoughtful “Mmmm,” came from the prince as he reached back into the Wonwoo-less memories. Even if they weren't want he wanted to focus on at the moment, Junhui wanted to make Wonwoo happy. “Some potions have counter potions, but counters to new potions are difficult to procure,” he recited with his eyes closed in recollection before they popped back open to stare at Wonwoo. 

“Mn.” Wonwoo nodded, and he began to mentally locate the closest apothecary in case they had no other options. 

“But! Hansolie!” Junhui suddenly jumped up, beaming at Wonwoo. 

“Vernon? Does he know of a way to help?” The younger knight, one of Wonwoo’s direct subordinates and Junhui’s closest companions was constantly reading and thinking things out of the ordinary, so it wouldn't be out of the question. 

“Just a bit ago he was always talking about ‘true love's kiss!’ There’s nothing it can't overcome, not even death~” Junhui’s bubbly laugh followed, “at least that's what he said.”

Wonwoo was about to repeat ‘true love’s kiss’ back in a bit of disbelief. That sort of thing only worked in fairy tales, didn't it?

But before he had the chance to speak, Junhui had already continued. 

“But that's okay. We don't have to kiss.” Junhui's wide smile had arched his eyes into crescents, “after all, how could ‘true love’s kiss’ happen if you don't love me back, Wonwon?” 

Wonwoo stiffened slightly at these words, but he kept silent. Junhui removed his eyes from Wonwoo to rest his head against the crook of Wonwoo’s neck to feel his warmth and pulse. “You're good to me, but it really feels like you hate me sometimes. You avoid me, you choose to disobey the most important things I say, and you hardly smile at me anymore, but you don't stop me from doing things like this. Even though it feels like you'll pull my arms away from you at any second.” Truly, Wonwoo’s hand still hadn’t left his arm. 

“I don't mind being by your side for forever, Wonwon. But I want you to be happy.” He snuggled in just a bit closer, closing his eyes to focus on the feeling, “I won't make you kiss someone you hate.”

Wonwoo simply stared, wide eyed, down at Junhui. He murmured something, but Junhui didn’t catch it. They sat like this, still, until Wonwoo’s hand finally moved from Junhui’s sleeve. It fisted for a brief moment, endless contemplation coming to a head as he rested that same hand against the prince’s cheek. 

“My pr—.” Junhui slowly turned his eyes back toward Wonwoo’s face, a bit in confusion because of how tightly his jaw was set. The knight seemed to really be struggling at the moment, and his brow was furrowed in effort. He was focused on the ground in front of him, and for a short moment, screwed his eyes shut. “Junhui.” 

Junhui instantly sat up at the sound of his name being said, pressing his cheek into Wonwoo’s hand. Wonwoo finally turned his head back to sit face to face with the younger. The intensity of his stare nearly brought Junhui completely back to his senses, those piercing eyes doing their best to ward off the twisted magic. 

Junhui felt as if his heart had stopped. His dear knight was cradling his face, looking him in the eye, and leaning in closer, closer, closer. He could only close his eyes as the older’s lips pressed so, so gently into his own, a kiss so sweet it made his still-beating heart want to soar and shatter in the same moment. 

The moment was brief, chaste, but it was enough. The magic fog that had clouded Junhui’s mind for the greater part of the night finally cleared, and as his reasoning returned, he yelped and quickly removed his arms from where they rested around Wonwoo’s neck. Wonwoo’s hand didn’t chase him as he scooted away and put just the slightest amount of distance between him and his knight. 

That… had really happened. Wonwoo had kissed him. Wonwoo had kissed him of his own volition. Wonwoo’s kiss had broken the spell off the potion. Wonwoo’s kiss… was that of True Love? _ What _?

Even if he hadn’t been completely coherent, or perhaps it was because he hadn’t been completely coherent, Junhui’s words had been honest. Deep down he had feared that Wonwoo hated him but… had he just disproved that? Furthermore, he had finally uttered his name. Instead of his title, Wonwoo had called him by his name. 

With all the thoughts and questions running through his head, Junhui’s tongue tripped over itself and he ended up speaking a garbled mess as a response. 

“I— Wonwoo, you, I accused you, I’m so sorry, but y— we kissed, you kissed, I don’t,” 

“Junhui,” The single word was all it took for Wonwoo to have the prince’s full attention. The sound of it was so foreign. It made him giddy. “I promise I will explain. I apologize for how I acted.”

The formality of the words and the way Wonwoo was adjusting his posture again made Junhui’s heart sink. Was it possible that he was just acting on the possibility that one-sided love was enough? But then why use his name?

Before he could ask about this however, Junhui’s new vantage point of not being pressed against Wonwoo’s side allowed him to see his front, and see where his other hand had been all this time as one had been in constant contact with him.

On the side opposite Junhui, Wonwoo’s hand was holding a piece of cloth and pressing down on an open gash about the length of Junhui’s forearm. The bleeding had only slightly slowed, and as Junhui processed what he was seeing, his panic began to rise. 

This whole time Wonwoo had been holding him and ensuring his comfort and thinking of ways to help him, he had been bleeding and had not sought medical attention! 

“When did this even happen?!” Junhui shot to his feet and stretched his arms out toward the injury in bewildered disbelief, “were you hiding it the whole time?”

“Regrettably, it happened on the second strike of the fight. I had blocked Amsal’s strike, but it left me open for the second surprise attack that came from the man who administered the potion to you.” Wonwoo was so calm about this whole situation that it only made Junhui more worried. 

“So you’re saying you fought and protected me while being injured the whole time?!” As he looked down Junhui noted that his white shirt had remained snow white. Not a single drop of blood had stained it. Wonwoo simply nodded in response, and Junhui felt his heart once again swell and ache at the same time. 

His knight was terrifyingly capable, yet this whole time he ignored his own pain in favor of making sure Junhui would not suffer longer any longer than he had to. Wonwoo was amazing, but if Junhui could now wish for something, it would be for an ounce of self-preservation on the knight’s own part. 

“When you said you would explain, I hope you mean after we got you to the infirmary!” Wonwoo nodded once more, for now once again wearing the stone face he had adopted for his occupation. 

“Good.” Junhui huffed, grateful both that Wonwoo would not bleed out on him and that he had a distraction from everything that had just happened, “then we can go home after. I’m getting tired of this party.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Everything had been settled, Wonwoo’s side had been treated and bandaged, the Pennyroyal duo had been taken into custody for further interrogation, and now, the knight and the prince sat together in the prince’s quarters. 

Junhui had motioned for him to sit next to him on the bed, and it would have been rude to do otherwise. They sat in silence, neither sure exactly where to start. 

What a night this had been. A potioning and a fight that had ended in Junhui’s first kiss being with the person he loved more than anything else in the middle of a perfect flower garden under the full moon, it really almost seemed too perfect. 

Junhui was staring down at the sleeves his fingers were fiddling with, before he finally looked up toward Wonwoo. The older had been patiently waiting for him to begin, as he clearly had questions. “When— before you kissed me, you said something, right? What was that?”

Wonwoo was silent, at least for a moment. As if he wasn’t sure how to answer. Yet it was clear that he knew exactly what those words had been. 

“It’s… fine. You don’t have to tell me, I—” 

“ 'If only you knew just how wrong you were.’ ”

Junhui had been about to dejectedly turn back toward the ground, but now he stared, wide-eyed at the knight who could not meet his gaze. 

“You had said that I likely hated you. You,” he paused, breathing deeply as if to steady himself and his voice, “could not have been farther from the truth.”

Junhui felt his cheeks heat up. What? Then was Wonwoo implying that he… loved him? It seemed impossible, yet Wonwoo was not the type to lie. Even beyond his job demanding honor, it wasn’t in his character to do so. 

“Then, then why did you act like that? Toward me, for so long, it felt like you never wanted to see me.” The more he spoke the more his throat closed in on itself, and his last words were choked out more than they were spoken. “I missed you, but you were never around.”

Wonwoo sighed, and Junhui was for a moment sure he was about to get another lecture about “Duty” and “Honor,,” but with the size of Wonwoo’s inhale directly following it seemed like Wonwoo was truly having trouble putting what he had on his mind into words. Truly, he had always been more of a man of action than someone to directly speak. 

“I’ve said this before. My life is to serve you, my Prince, the Prince of this land,” he began, but Junhui didn’t allow his heart to sink quite yet. “Yet for the sake of this kingdom, I have also had to fight on the front lines.”

Of course he did. Junhui was always dreading his time spent around the castle without Wonwoo around, and much of that time was wishing for Wonwoo’s safe return. The first few times he had helped tend to Wonwoo's injuries, but after a bit Wonwoo had stopped allowing him to see him as he recovered.

“These hands,” Wonwoo had them out in front of him, open, “have been darkened with blood countless times now. Prince Junhui, you deserve somebody who can give you the tenderness and care you desire, somebody like the Kim Prince whose position can grant you even greater luxuries.” His hands clenched into fists, and Junhui automatically reached over to place his own hand over Wonwoo’s. 

“No matter what I felt, I could not give you what you deserved. And I could not let my feelings interfere with my duty.” 

Things were beginning to make sense for Junhui. 

“So to make sure your ‘feelings’ didn’t get in your way you… avoided me? Threw away all that kindness you used to show?” Junhui still missed the soft kisses Wonwoo used to press onto his crown or his cheek after a job well done. 

For the first time in a while that Junhui had seen, Wonwoo smiled. Even if was one filled with sadness. “They were powerful feelings. And even now they have not diminished.” 

Once more, Junhui could not help but blush. The implications were practically explicit at this point. It was very Wonwoo for him to confess in this way, actually. And that thought made Junhui chuckle lightly. 

“Wonwon, this whole time, I’ve only ever looked at you.” Junhui was aware of Wonwoo’s surprise at hearing him laugh, so he smiled back, “They say distance makes the heart grow fonder, yeah? Even though you probably avoided me to ignore your own feelings, you must have known about mine, right? And wanted to try to give me less to focus on.” Wonwoo nodded, now having met Junhui’s eyes, “Well, I only missed you more. And now that you’re saying you love me and that potion proved it. I… this feels like a dream.

“You aren’t a dream, right, Wonwon?”

“... No. This is real, Jun.” 

Wonwoo turned his hand to hold Junhui’s in his own, “If I had been by your side tonight, you would not have had to suffer. You could have had true company, and you could have danced with someone without having to run away from the ball.” 

“So you’re saying that from now on, you’ll stay by my side?” 

“I will. I will do everything in my power to remain so. I will do everything in my power to make you happy, if you would have me.” Wonwoo had spent the whole night since the fight resolving himself to say this, it seemed. For now, as it came out, there was no longer hesitation in his voice like there was in the garden.

This remained surreal for Junhui. “Of course. Do you think I’d pass up my literal dream come true?” The tears that pricked at the corners of his eyes were that of joy, of relief, that instead of his fear of Wonwoo’s hating him coming true, the opposite had been confirmed. His pining could finally, finally come to a close. He could have Wonwoo hold him again, greet him with hugs again, talk to him again. Junhui might have been naive at times, but he was no fool.

“Now, if this is cleared up,” Junhui near jumped for joy as he crossed his room to rummage around his desk, brushing papers off of an old wind-up box. He cranked the mechanism, and when he opened the box, music accompanied the small figure of two cats together, spinning on a pedestal.

This music box had been gifted to him by his brother a long time ago, and he had commented about the striking resemblance between the black and white cats with Wonwoo and Junhui; what better time to put it to use than now?

Junhui returned to the now-standing Wonwoo who had watched his every move. The younger stretched his hand out toward his knight, a smile on his face as he asked what he had wanted to ask for years upon years. 

“Sir Jeon Wonwoo, will you dance with me?” This was no ball, but it was still a dance. And one that would be dearly important to him.

For a moment, Wonwoo’s habits wanted him to stand up straight and deny Junhui. He nearly did, but he caught himself. With a slow yet decided movement, he took the hand that had been extended to him and pulled his prince close to his chest, his other hand coming to rest on the younger’s hip.

“I will, dear Jun.”

**Author's Note:**

> thank u for making it to the end ! I hope you had a good time at this party!
> 
> also, none of my works are discontinued . I swear on my incredibly platonic love for minghao. they will all get updates. TWO OF THEM HAVE UPDATES IN PROGRESS. I HAVE NOT DIED.
> 
> thank you for your patience ><
> 
> cc & twt: CobaltBoba  
come talk to me~


End file.
